Friday, December 29, 2006

It's not CHOCOLATE. No, it never was...sure, I can research the bugger and find out how it was that the sample of music was posted as Chocolate, and the sound was another song or that the title was one thing and the music was another, but who cares? Who really cares? No one reads this damn thing any way. Who reads any of this stuff? It's crap, a waste of time. If you're not producing stuff for money and making something out there in the real world and affecting lives in a good way the world around, you ain't dick and the life you lead is a fucking waste.

Friday, October 27, 2006

The following is the correspondence between me and the machine....you all might enjoy the reading...then again...you might not. It just might depress the hell out of you. [It appears all as it was, only the order has changed. The last item was first, as we all know, these sent and resent items go, they display last first. So, for story order I’ve gone through the absolute cut and paste hell to get it right, and have only made a few minor edits in grammar/syntax/spacing…but not much. It is horrible to look at, even now. Motorola’s and Mine.]

---William. =================== Customer (William Neal) 10/21/2006 06:33 AMWould buying a new battery solve the problem of my display screen going blank and alternately partially obliterating the text/images on the display screen? That's what's happening. The Verizon people said they didn't know what was wrong with it. Maybe some software problem. And that's it. I can get a new battery or two and would prefer to keep my phone if I can be assured that all I have to do to solve this problem is that, getting new batteries.

Thank you very much for your considerations and interest in our products.

Regarding your concern, we are so sorry to hear about this inconvenience. In order to assist you better, it would be helpful for us if you could provide us with the following information:

-Who is your service provider?-When and where did you purchased the phone?-What is the IMEI number of your cell phone? (In the cell phone, under the battery, there is a label you will find this number there. It is a 15 digits long number)-Was the cell phone in contact with liquids?-Was the cell phone dropped by somebody?-Is the cell phone showing you any error message?-Have you ever had the phone repaired?-Have you tried to take the battery out and after 5/10 seconds, to put it again?

We would appreciate you writing us back with that information.

If you have further questions or need additional assistance, please contact our Cellular Information Center at 1-800-331-6456. Our business hours are Monday through Friday from 7am to 10pm CST and Saturday and Sunday from 9am to 6pm CST.

For information about Motorola products and services, please locate http://www.motorola.com/

Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to be of service to you.

Best Regards, Customer (William Neal) 10/21/2006 06:33 AMWould buying a new battery solve the problem of my display screen going blank and alternately partially obliterating the text/images on the display screen? That's what's happening. The Verizon people said they didn't know what was wrong with it. Maybe some software problem. And that's it. I can get a new battery or two and would prefer to keep my phone if I can be assured that all I have to do to solve this problem is that, getting new batteries.

Sincerely,

Lucia M.Motorola Internet Correspondence Team

===================== Customer (William Neal) 10/22/2006 07:42 AMI recently gave my phone to a nice lady to replace my LCD....and if this doesn't do it, well, whatever...It's less than what I have spent and I...just won't use it if it doesn't work....and will let my subscription for my account expire...perhaps just use one of those no contract phones...for emergencies. Perhaps a Motorola phone, maybe not.

DEAR LUCIA

Thanks for writing.

Now, to answer some questions. The ones you asked.

Verizon. I purchased the phone from Radio Shack many years ago and they no longer carry the deal with Verizon and as indicated above, I don't have the phone on me and cannot tell you the Number, but it might be the one I already gave you when I had to write initially. You and or your compatriots/the web master should have that somewhere. I had to give that initially to write. No contact with liquids. It has not been dropped. No error messages. I have not had the phone repaired, but am having the LCD replaced as we speak....well, it should be ready to go by TUESDAY, 10/24/06 and I'll let you know what's what. Yes, I've taken the battery out for a bit, perhaps 10/15 seconds and have put it back in. Had to. The screen has gone blank on me and the display has from time to time gone nuts on me. It shuffles the icons and images, like an old TV on the fritz, like all the lines are shuffled and line four is moved over to be above line five, but is not where it should be, you know?

there is this image way over kind of like this.

Do you under stand what I mean? Do you get the picture?I hope this answers your query into this case. I think the lady at the local phone place, NOT A VERIZON place, because all they had to say was: "Dunno, perhaps it's a software problem". And, if it is, well, I'll just let it go. I'm not going to spend any more money on it. Thank you for your time.

Thank you very much for your considerations and interest in our products.

Regarding your concern, please note that we need the IMEI number of your cell phone to check if it is under warranty in our system. The serial number you have given us is not the one we are looking for. In fact, we need a fifteen digits long number (only numbers). We would appreciate if you can contact us again with this information.

We hope you find this information helpful and look forward to assisting you in the future.

If you have further questions or need additional assistance, please contact our Cellular Information Center at 1-800-331-6456. Our business hours are Monday through Friday from 7am to 10pm CST and Saturday and Sunday from 9am to 6pm CST.

For information about Motorola products and services, please locate http://www.motorola.com/

I have my phone back and it has a new LCD and so far the "problem" has been solved. As far as a 15 digit # goes, without Letters, I'm sorry. My phone simply does not have that on the white sticker underneath the battery in the back of the phone's battery compartment. There's this: SUG2821GJ J12 4536EA VA and this: DEC: 06613663026 Model C333c HW P4.1

and the last line:

HEX 42DO5422 DWJ C36 3M # 7A3

Oh, and at the very top: the FCC number: IHDT66CL1 EE3 TTY

You have ALL the numbers and letters on the back of this Made in Brazil cell/mobile phone. Good luck with it. It works now, so far so good. I have a couple of questions though:

1. How do I go about getting more ring tones besides getting online service through my Verizon carrier?

2. What data cable should I buy?

3. Any recommendations of sound/music software to use to make my sounds and then transfer (I realize this may mean two (2) different software products.) it to my phone...what other software/transfer to my cell/mobile would you recommend for this archaic but wonderful phone (because it has the Continental ring tone. (A mis-named thing because on the continent the phones ring like they do here in the U.S. but it sounds like it rings on phones in England, which is what I prefer and the reason I got this B&W display instead of the color when I originally was looking at the 3 series phones.)

So, again, what data cable, what software for downloading to my phone and maybe what sound shaping software would you recommend? I realize maybe you can't for legal reasons do that, but, you could suggest ones you know very well that will work, and say it in such a way as you know folks who’ve used such before and have had much success with it, and that way, you'd be legally off the hook. Ask your supervisor if this isn't kosher. I think it is.

Thanks for all your help. Sorry I couldn't find Because it's not there. The 15 digit number no letters on the back of the phone.

Regarding your concern, we are so sorry to hear about this inconvenience. We have checked the HEX number of your cell phone (42DO5422 DWJ) and it does not appear in our system. The reason of this is that the cell phone has not been manufactured for USA.

Motorola's warranty is supported in the country in which the unit was originally sold or intended for use by Motorola. If the phone is approved for use by a US Service Provider (Carrier) and has US software installed, its warranty will apply and it can be repaired at the US Repair Center, as long as there is no Physical or Liquid Damage.

Since your unit was not manufactured for use in the US, it is not covered under the manufacturer's warranty. However, you can send the phone to our National Service Center to have it exchanged by a US approved (equal value & refurbished) unit, with a US Supported software version loaded (unit will be locked for one specific US carrier), for a U$S 175 fee.

Remember to include: a copy of your proof of purchase, a note stating that you want to have the phone exchanged by a US approved unit, the service provider and phone number for the cellular phone you are sending and your personal information (complete shipping address and daytime phone number). You will also need to send your credit card information (type of credit card, name of the account holder and expiration date). Remember also to remove the battery, battery cover and SIM card before shipping it.

If you have further questions or need additional assistance, please contact our Cellular Information Center at 1-800-331-6456. Our business hours are Monday through Friday from 7am to 10pm CST and Saturday and Sunday from 9am to 6pm CST. For information about Motorola products and services, please locate http://www.motorola.com/

You've obviously NOT been reading my missives. I have my phone back and it works fine. I have a new LCD screen and it works like magic.It, the phone was made in as I said Brazil but I purchased it at a Radio Shack in Fountain Valley, California many eons ago...well, not eons, but, it might as well have been. I don't have the receipt. I don't have the numbers/digits or whatever you call it, 15 or otherwise. I simply asked about a data cable and you were unable to do that. I simply asked about what software I would be wise to utilize to have the cable function properly and to have some control over sounds to make some ring tones I like. AGAIN, you were unable to do that.It's too old of a phone to be under warranty. I know that. Any thing over 2 years these days is. That's a given. There's no such thing as customer service, only planned obsolescence. No thank you for your help. As Gene Wilder once said in the movie Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: "GOOD DAY!"I sincerely hope you enjoy all of your lives you share over there wherever you may be, whomever you are and all such as that, all along the way. It is readily apparent you can get your products made by Portuguese speaking people or Spanish speaking people and have things printed up in English and Spanish, but only last a few planned years. Fine. Bully for you. You have a business, and I don't. You have a proper place in this world, and I don't. Okay...I don't feel the slightest bit inferior, only slightly miffed, and saddened, that this is the way of the world. So be it. Oh well. Good DAY!! This lame venture hasn't even been fun. It's been exhausting. Too bad. It's tragic life can't be better for all concerned. It must remain the lame fuckaround that it is. Pathetic. Wish there were real people and real lives and real wills that would change all this, but, alas, no one has the guts to do any thing about it. Believe me, I would if I could. I can and most certainly do where I can. Here is one such example. I write to you, the nameless, faceless, corporate identity, that doesn't give a rat’s ass. I say to you: GOOD DAY!!! And I mean it whole heartedly. Good. DAY!!!--William.

Friday, October 13, 2006

YOU HEAR SOMETHING FOR DAYS AND YOU DON'T know where it's from... "ooo, oo-oo, ooo, oo-oo oo oo."

---SNOW PATROL, Chocolate, from Final Straw (album)

I've finally found that song with the "ooo" singing stuff and nonsense that's been bugging me these past few days. Got a new phone...what do people waste time on line with their cell phones for? Camera? And, you have to download simple ring tones to get a decent chime or ring? That's f-ng LAME!! (I have to and I hate it. Hate even more not being able to check them out before paying for some bindle-stiff/staff bundle. You call that "service"? All I want, you see, is a few variations on the ring-ring, (pause) ring-ring, type ringer/ringings, that folks in the U.K. get on their phones, one such I had on my MOTOROLA phone with the two blown batteries. (I have an LG-VX8300 now.) I'm color screen now and know a bit more about charging batteries (I killed my phone batteries and they...well, I could have gone Google for some...) and I'll only use my car charger for emergencies...well...flip-fone, camera...and cancel the V-cast... Maybe a new car...water pipe at the house broke. We were a 10 unit user, and now after a 2 day plus broken pipe, are a 70 unit user. WTF? We got a visit from the DWP! We were out. Found a blue paper hang-tag on the doorknob. Working to pay the 500 plumbing bill. And, the car, oh, not mine, the pwr steering reservoir is out on that one, got it dribbling on the driveway with kitty litter poured out underneath...the other car, the Towne Car, with Christian Dior or some such design interior, that's 300 to get the dash lights back and the push-button on the dash compartment flap for the access to the gas cap...silly...what a full-moon miasma...why the phone? Maybe it was the Modelo Negra impulse buy or the fact no one was in the store (NO WAITING!!), before yours truly ate three (count them 3) soft tacos, with rice, from Chipotle. ("I made the salsas this morning."---One of the black and white t-shirts the workers wear.) Have to get to LOWES or the Home Depot today to get a light switch...so we can see the trick or treaters. F-m, candy is bad, especially chocolate. "It goes right to your butt."---Co-Worker said that, someone I hardly know. I like that.--MR.KEN, over and out of it, for now...

Friday, September 15, 2006

The story so far: My stint at Jury Duty is over for at least another 12 months. The paperwork for being paid for it has been turned in and I can't seem to get into the network from home to check on it being processed. My book from Ralph Steadman: The Joke's Over, is on its way and will be delivered on the 19th of September at the latest, by the nice folks at FedEx. I just saw The Black Dahlia and saw a few people walking out of the film quite late in the process, and Idiocracy, where no one walked, and I laughed the loudest at certain spots...cringed in both films, at the lame bits of each. Can't compare the two. Shouldn't certainly, but I did see both in as many days apart and I am thinking of them now as I just read the reviews and it's all fresh on my mind and so I feel the need to comment here. Thought arrived after Dahlia, to not see any more films, not if I wasn't going to be in them or make them. Right now I'd just love to sit with a good book and read. I don't feel in the mood for any thing else. It's cooling off around here and I am sicky-poo feeling, but that could just be as a result of low blood sugar due to my not having any thing to eat in a while, and or having some high end fructose stuff Green Tea Drink, and now I've crashed. I'm not in the mood to be fucked with but have been, and I yelled and shouted out, some kind of idiocy of my mother interrupting me in my thoughts alone in a chair as I sat, contemplating what pen or pen combination to put in my pant and shirt pockets...she had to drive the knife in my chest again about the pool not working. I don't give a damn about it. I told her about the hose being crimped, as the thing will screw up the pump and cleaning device and system. She's all talking to me about high PSI of the meter and all, knowing that it mustn't go above 30 pounds per square inch, and I told her months ago that having the hose pinched would cause problems and that the pump should not be run with the crimped hose, which crimped a long time ago and needed to be replaced. She didn't let me replace it. I could have done so a long time ago on my own of course but just haven't....the pump/cleaning system has worked "fine" as it were, but so what? If it's messed up like that, any idiot can tell you or say, that that could be a problem, or could lead to some, as time goes by. No shit. Easy. So all this time the pump and cleaning system has been working, and now today it's not. Okay, now what? So what do you want me to do about it? I'm not going to empty out the damn tank like I did several weeks ago (which would surely fix it). I don't think that the thing should be emptied every couple of weeks, just because the pressure is too high. It's insane, stupid. It seems every couple of weeks, something with the pool needs to be done. Right on my day off. Perfect for killing my weekend, when all I want to do is think about what to write, or, read and write, and nothing else, not be bothered by any thing else. I don't want to mess with the stinking pool or any thing else around this house. I don't want to have to fool with it. It's a white elephant/a money pit, and it's only really used by me in Summer mornings, when I need to take the edge off. I hate having to mess with it. I'd rather sit up stairs here in my room and contemplate what pen I should use and what pocket it should be placed in. I'd really rather just be in the mood to read or write.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

"I'm swallowing kryptonite. No one can save me now, not even superman inside a lead suit.Jumping off the bridge without a rubber banded rope. Flying my commercial jet airliner into the building, screaming: allahu akbar, allahu akbar, allahu akbar (god is great)!No one can stop me now, not even god. I'm gone. I'm dead. I'm done. You will no longer see or hear me ever again, not that I'm aware of. Not that I'm aware. I am dead and gone and good riddance to you."--Tiompka, unknown poet.-------After THE DOORS I don't think I've seen any other film by Oliver Stone. I used to laugh and say, get it? Wham! (That's the sound of being hit over the head with the POINT of his films.) Here's the point WHAM! I'm going to show you the point WHAM!(I'm smaking my hand flat on the desktop here for emphasis, making the motion of crashing a baseball bat over your head.) Here's the point WHAM! Get it? WHAM! There's the point WHAM! Oh, and in case you didn't get it, WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!It is an over the top method. It is that dramatic medium, but a bit excessive I thought, his work, things coming from him, regardless that in this day and age of multi-tudinal, distractedness.There's an old hollywood storytelling method: Tell them you're going to tell them. Tell them. Then tell them you've told them. And, it was showing them that, not telling per se. It is the visual/aural medium, to be sure. "Looks more WHAM! Like a sycamore WHAM! To me WHAM WHAM WHAM!!" --Yogi Bear, as stunt actor, trying to make it big in Hollow-wood, as ever, trying to get out of Jellystone Park.---Mr. Ken.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

I say, What The Hell? What happened to making the blog just follow one thing after the other? What the hell? What the hell happened to having one entry meet the next and not have a break or have to click a link to the right side column to get another shot? What the hell? I can't add other photos, no one adds comments, what the hell?This is indicative of how stupid life is. No wonder people shoot their mouths off or crush themselves under the wheels of their own jeeps in weak attempts and general exitry. FOOLS! IDIOTS! KNAVES! JACKANAPES! IMBECILES! Pistol whipping nincompoops! What the hell?

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Home again home again, jiggedy-jig.Home is where the heart is. I don't know how lame all of this is but I do know one thing, it's good to be back and out of the suitcases and not having to deal with not having to deal all the time...home...things are comfortably corrupt and stupid and lame and all, but, it's home. You're comfortable with this fucked-up-ness, you know? It's home. Welcome back. It was fun to wander and as you know, there's no place like home, there's no place like...

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Pittsburgh, PA., one of the last hold outs for smoking in public. They have open cafes here I can't imagine being in during the very cold winters here which they say are more mild now due to global warming. But, that being said, they run their air conditioners in these places as well, just like some fancy arsed hotels in the O.C. do, with walk in fire places. Interesting for sure...more later maybe.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

This is lame. Just too hard to work. I want to put in a photo, now I can't. I want to delete the previous entry, I can't. It, in a word, sucks. Hope is I'll get internet access and be able to post something if I remember my user name, etc. and get in on the computer I use and make a comment or three for you to read. Because this is what this is. There is nothing else. I have to get off this goddamn thing and get into the packing I need to do and then get back into the swimming pool again and maybe it'll rain again on me, like it did earlier when I went out to shut off the water which I had on earlier to add to the pool. The cleaning system had been turned off for three days and the water level was too far and the cleaning mechanism wasn't working and it needed to be serviced...so, I took care of it...sun shine and rain and even a bit of an earthquake today while I was reading the book review section of the LATimes, something about the first wife of Raymond Carver. She's got a book and that interests me...I've seen it rain on a sunny day...it's hot and humid and I don't consider I'll bring my fish oil with me...too hot and quite a mess to bring...bring a bag or what as that...no, that won't work...I'll only bring my L-Theanine and Rhodiola Rosea...some gum...peppermint...Peelu...no more Propolis...but, even still, after all this time, I'm still getting or have still the red bumps on my skin...even in all this heat/humidity...it's incredible...Enough. The End.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Hilltop. Man in Chair Facing South West. San Diego. A friend of mine took my photo in this comfortable chair. My friend with whom I'll probably never have any more contact, since she got married. How and why is that? Because I'm single and no longer a part of her world, which is married and on to other things? I don't know. What of it? Who cares? I just want to die some times. I don't care about a goddamn thing. I don't want to kill myself but I tell you I'd like to go to sleep and never wake up some times. I just don't care. I just don't give a good goddamn some times. That is how I feel. I'd much rather sit in a chair in a comfortable store front and watch the world go away than I would want to have to do any thing like work or fret over trivial stuff like the war and gas prices and what I'm going to do for the rest of my stupid life. I don't have any convictions or any thing. My pittance is just that. I don't have the drive weal desire or compunction to blow myself up in a crowd of people or don a uniform and liberate people. I just don't care. Not that much, not that bad. I don't care. I would much rather sit and not be hungry cold tired and I'd rather come up with ideas to write and be able to write and publish and get well paid for every thing. Nothing more.

Words From the Journal(4.17.06)For You & You & YouI bed down at sundown. I wake up and sometimes even get up while it's still dark, quiet; when no one else is around, stirring, interrupting me or my flow/take on things; no questions good or bad, no greetings happy or sad. NOTHING--absolutely--I am all alone. It is, in a word, PERFECT. But alas, it is short-lived. Like the technology of the day. My internet service here via a wireless card, via a modem router broadcasting a weak-assed signal upstairs here to this room through a secure coded signal. Why can't it be like they say? Perfect Fast Always on? Why isn't it? Whose fault is it? Is it theirs for promising it? Or ours for stupidly/naively expecting then, like me, fast superfast connectivity, and then being angry as hell, demanding perfection, in permanence (perpetuity)? Which of course will never, as long as we're alive, BE. I seriously doubt every thing will be fixed in death. I somehow feel that that will be missing something as well. Quite a few things in fact, just to get started.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

More Writing For YouI want to put down here some words from a work in progress, enjoy MEMORY BECKONS:

4.17.2006 I WANT YOU... I want you, you know who you are. I want you, all of you, every single girl/woman I have ever met in my entire life. I want you all. Life is not fair. It will not allow it. But if I had my way, I would have time for each and every one of you, and we would both enjoy it. We would both care and have pleasure and fond memories of every experience we would share. It wouldn’t all just be about sex, but that would be there. We’d all have that when/where necessary, but it would be more. It’d be comforting, comfortable, for us both. One on one, one at a time, a life that would allow for it, allow for every thing. But life isn’t fair, it won’t allow for it, no, not at all. Oh, we’d have sex, and it would not be all that spectacular, but it’d be funny and fun and stupid and dumb. Hope is it’d be without Mr. Nasty, the inevitable, the guilt/shame/sickness/disease/mistrust/miscommunication and death. Hope is it’d be without this. But life is unfair. It is always with this, Mr. Nasty. Life works like this: You’d have sex all of a sudden with someone you’re not particularly attracted to...you’d marry someone you just got used to, and hated, absolutely HATED some of the things she’d pull and continue to do from time to time, just as she’d hate like hell things about you. That’s how it’d be, that’s how it’d go, it just works out that way don’t you know? Life is not fair. That’s just the way that it is.

Monday, April 17, 2006

PHOTOS OF THE LAZARUS BOOKWell, the pictures are slow in coming. I don't know as I'll get to them any time soon. I have work to do this week and it will require some camera work this weekend on a shoot in Ventura I plan to be on. Maybe I'll take my car. Maybe I'll take my mother's. Perhaps I'll just rent one, BuenaVentura is a long way away, and I have things to do before I go, stuff to memorize, and many many people to meet with and help before I go. More Later, ta-tah for now, Space Travelers.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

This is me on my boat in Singapore. My cabin girl MAI took the photo. She's pretty good with a camera, of course with a few other things too...but this is a family blog and we'll not go there naturally, will we? Well, how do you think families get started? It aint me babe, no, it aint me.

Lazarus was resurrected from the dead as the story goes by one called Jesus Christ. Now, what happened to Lazarus after he was raised from the dead was not properly explained. With that, let's join the story already in progress and see where we can go with it. Lazarus was minding his own business in a cave being dead, when all of a sudden Jesus called him forth. The power was overwhelming, as was Lazarus' smell. He needed a bath. He needed new clothes. And, he needed something to eat. Not to mention something to do. Some folks in the group that had been following Jesus that week, broke off from the crowd and took care of Lazarus for awhile. There was Pete, the carpenter, who smoked quite a bit. There was Lily, the launderer, who so recently quit. There was Simon, the pie man, who wasn't simple at all. And, there was Derry, the nary, a questionable sort. Pete built Lazarus a house, complete with running water. Lily, the launderer, acquired for Lazarus a whole pack of clothes. There were ties and cummerbunds. There were hats and handkerchiefs. There were even some nice lavender colored terry-cloth socks. Simon, the non-simpleton, managed to rustle up some food goods for Lazarus. Cans of peas; Blackeyed and English. Butter croissants and egg bagels. For dessert, there was a push cart piled high with Napoleons. Derry the nary tried to oblige Lazarus with gifts too; sexual gifts. But, didn't understand the story. You see, Lazarus preferred Lily. But, the problem with that was, no woman or man in their right mind would have sex, or even date anyone who has been resurrected. No one wanted sex with Lazarus except Derry. But, Lazarus didn't want sex with Derry. Derry, the nary, who was a man at one time, however, having undergone certain trendy hospital experiments, cannot be considered much of a man or woman now. But, that's besides the point. Lazarus decided to disappear into the haze. Being indifferent to the sexual craze, he'd go celibate for a while. He figured that it couldn't be too bad. Years went by. Lazarus stopped writing his friends. His friends stopped writing him. He was lonely. He was depressed. He regressed to old habits. He put on a dress. (Actually it was a kilt, but folks that don't know what a kilt is, call it a dress.) He picked up his bagpipes and began to play them all around. He would walk into the Highlands without anything on and play and play and play. He would go to Ghirardelli Square with his flat green woolen cap that he didn't often wear and get it full of tossed coins on the ground. This lifted him up a bit. As far as regular habits went, Lazarus would do the route of doughnut shops and bookstores. He'd make diurnal trips to specialty tea shops in search for the infamous P.G. TIPS. It was the best tea in the world. Unfortunately for Lazarus, no one in the States had gotten the clue. Lazarus' life was boring. He was getting frustrated. It was time for a trip. To the Southland. It was too cold where he was. Wet too. Maybe some sun was what he needed. Perhaps a tan. Hamburger joints and soft, loose-fitting clothing greeted Lazarus. It was hot and people were sweating, especially Lazarus. He took a dip and was soothed. He was also gunked. Tar. Huge gobs of it stuck to his feet. It stuck to the sand, and the sand stuck to it. "What kind of randy place is this?" muttered Lazarus. Finding a turpentine vendor up the beach a ways, he considered himself lucky. Indeed he was. Most wildlife who come in contact with the tar from the offshore oil drillers die. All of this exercise made Lazarus hungry. He found this yellow and brown colored food joint. They had a burger that was fat. He ordered the giant with the works. He also ordered chili fries, with real shredded cheddar cheese and freshly chopped white onions sprinkled on top. He consumed everything with zeal. Dessert was provided by a Kosher ice cream place next door. Lazarus ordered a large vanilla soft-ice, with rainbow sprinkles on top. Lazarus had just about run out of money. He was really broke and did not want his flow of cash to quit. Answering an ad in a local paper, Lazarus went to work at an amusement park scooping up trash. But, of course, the new source of bucks wasn't enough. He tried to think. He couldn't. He got dizzy. Stumbling into the kitchen, he just barely made it to the sink before throwing up. Luckily he didn't fall. Not like the drunken woman neighbor of his with her cigarette. Falling down over and over again; not once dropping her fiery cancerous carcinogenic stick. It was a Thanksgiving Lazarus would not soon forget. Ironically, the turkey's had it easier. All of their lives to live it up, and then it's over real quick like. No resurrection. On the freeways sometimes his mind would drift. Could the car? Some sort of mechanical failure? On purpose? Swerve violently from lane to lane, taking as many others with him as possible. Nothing personal of course, just to have some company; reduce the risk of a second resurrection. More work if more were involved. Simple arithmetic. The last snack Lazarus ever had were these French vanilla ice cream balls, covered in dark, bittersweet chocolate. He wanted just a few, but he ended up having a few hundred. The packages came that way. Lazarus grabbed for one, but in the process, knocked down another. Feeling guilty enough with just the one, he mumbled distractedly in the check out line about the hungry guys back at the house with the poker game. Lazarus ate all of the bon-bons in one sitting. His stomach bloated with all of the gaseous cow juice. It was half time, and the game on T.V. was a drag. He couldn't even remember who was playing who. He went to bed. A while later, Lazarus got up. He cleaned his teeth, relieved his bladder of liquid waste material, and went back to bed. Tossing and turning, he couldn't get comfortable. He rolled over once again, and his heart went into cardiac arrest. Lazarus was dead once again.=================================Yes, so, what'd you think? I like it. It's a perfect WHAT IF? situation. Updated. Today. And yet still the story of then. What happened then...sort of.Any way, I hope to now make pictures of the book Carmina made and post them. Her art work really should be out here more. I can't understand why this professional art instructor cannot be famous and rich and also my friend who gets me work from time to time as I will employ her too. She's married now or engaged or something, or so I am told...Thank you Joe Jackson. The story is all about eating. Food. Fuel. Life? Well, the consumption of energy. I guess that's life. Or so as we know it. The book is on fast food paper wrappings and is in a chicken store box and inside another box like a tomb or crypt, which once carried paper or something. On that cover is a photo of a mayan figurine or something like that. I'm not sure what it is. You'll have to ask me later and I'll have to get back to you on that after I research it or you tell me how ignorantly off I am. Good Day. The rest of the story plus photos follows.

It used to be that we were able to write and write a lot. We don't do that any more and we're not at all certain as to why. Guess real life just stepped in and stomped on all that. Buckyneal speaks here: "Fuck you,Lord Buckly." That's all I've got to say for now. This is annoying how slow the typing is appearing on the screen while I type. Oh well. At least here I am and if it works, if I'm discovered in a cafe some place...well, then, that's okay by me.

Now, here's something I wrote ages ago and is even found on the web at Chuck Taggart's Gumbo Pages which y'all should visit and check out some time:

UNCLE MANNY'S FLANNY STEAK VEGETABLES by William McKenzie Neal

1 teaspoon of salt 1 tablespoon of vinegar 5 quarts of water 7 quarts of Wild Turkey, 101 proof Mix in diced vegetables of any persuasion. (Diced Flanny Steak optional.) Boil contents till hell freezes over, making sure to trap the steam and whatever liquid there remains in the kettle. Throw the vegetables outside for the dogs. Drink the juice warm.It wasn't until I got older, much older, that while I was scrounging around in my great-great-great Uncle Manny's foot locker that I found this and tried this horrendous recipe for vegetables. Maybe Uncle Manny lived in more lucrative circumstances. Maybe he grew his own vegetables, and it's why Flanny Steak was optional that he could mix his favorite bourbon in such a giant supply and then throw the vegetables outside. Either that, or he was just a plain out and out alcoholic. Either way I loved the man dearly, and I'm sure his dogs did too.

I also have to say there's a book out now, (2 of them actually.), and they were hand made by Carmina Crittenden, and the story is: AFTER THE RESURRECTION, it's the story of Lazarus, as told by me, updated and played in the modern times of what if today, when Lazarus was done up then. Comprende? I'll have to find it and post it here.For now however, you'll just have to suffer through a true life story via script format from an event which occurred to me on the bus on the way to work some time ago in San Francisco, when I used to live there.It's called Jesus Terrorist Attack:

JESUS TERRORIST ATTACK Screenplay by William M. Neal

-Based on a True Story-

Fade In:

INT. BUS – DAY

The Number 22 Muni Bus in San Francisco stops at the corner of 16th and Dolores. Out of the walled off steps outside Mission Dolores walk two Spanish speaking YOUTHS. One boarded the bus. Standing on the top platform, he began to speak to the DRIVER in Spanish, then in English.

YOUTH I don’t have any money. Can’t I Board any way?

DRIVER It doesn’t work like that. I can’t give you a free ride. Now get off the bus.

YOUTH (To the crowd) Do you believe in Jesus?

A most effeminate MAN-1 near the front of the bus WHINES.

MAN-1 Please, get off the bus. I’m late for an appointment.

YOUTH (To Man-1) Do you believe in Jesus?

From the back of the bus another MAN-2 SHOUTS

MAN-2 (To the YOUTH) That’s got nothing to do with it. Now get off the bus. We’ve got to go.

MAN-1 Please. I’m late.

YOUTH Ask to be late in the name of Jesus.

MAN-2 (To Driver) Call the police. You have a phone. Use it.

DRIVER I cannot do anything.

MAN-2 Come on. Call the police. Use your phone. Call the police.

DRIVER (To the crowd) Hey, are you going to just let this guy do this to us?

YOUTH (To Driver, Crowd) Do you believe in Jesus? He’s the only way.

MAN-1 (To Youth) I’m sorry. Okay? Okay? I’m Sorry! I believe in Jesus. But don’t you think that Jesus wouldn’t want us to be late?

At this, the Youth is taken slightly aback in his Jesus tirade. Then he quickly takes off again. He was high on jackrabbit semen, a volatile concoction, very unpredictable. He had his own mission besides Jesus and it wasn’t saving souls, it was kicking some ass.

YOUTH (To the crowd) Do you have a problem? Do you have a problem? If you have a problem, then step outside with me.

The Crowd began to SHOUT.

CROWD-1 Jesus Terrorist! Get off the bus!

CROWD-2 Yeah. Get off the bus, you damn Jesus Terrorist you. Damn freak Get out of here!!

The Youth continued with the rant and was joined in with his (until then,) “silent partner”, in extracting tiny, red covered booklets from their pockets, and waving them at everyone shouting; “Jesus this...”, “Jesus that...”

Finally, the Youth turned around apropos nothing, and got off the bus, shouting more inanities in Spanish and English. Some people CLAPPED and others CHEERED.

MAN-1 OH, thank GOD!

The WOMAN sitting next to Man-1 CHUCKLED at the irony of his utterance.

So, that is how it went. The JESUS TERRORIST ATTACK on board the Fillmore #22 Marina Green MUNI bus in the Mission District, outside Mission Dolores on 16th at Dolores in San Francisco, California. Tuesday, the 3rd of January 1989.

FADE OUT:True Story, actually happened, as near as I can remember, exactly like that. I wrote it down as it was happening and after the fact, as the bus lumbered along through the Mission District out to Hunter's Point, near where I worked at a Direct Mail Advertiser at the time, processing bulk mail.

I'll have to get LAZARUS to you some other time. I need to read now and eat and get going. I have laundry to do and a movie to watch...ta-tah for now, space travelers.

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About Me

Love to watch movies in a theatre where I go in by my self and have no one sit nearby, esp. sic. no one who talks or has loud food wrappers or kicks the seat behind me or sits just out of my periphereal vision, just before the movie begins: That annoys the YOU KNOW WHAT out of me.